


there will i be buried

by hamiltrashed



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Inspired by Poetry, Love, M/M, Poetry, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, love in the time of apocalypse, lovesick rick, that i'm so terribly sacrilegious, this sort of almost turned into a poem but not really? but kind of? i dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:57:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed/pseuds/hamiltrashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s these verses that make rick think of verse of his own, sacred text of his own, an ode to crystal blue eyes and crossbow bolts and loyalty beyond loyalty, faith beyond faith.</p><p>{the gospel of rick and daryl, inspired by a tale of loyalty from the bible, because if anyone has any qualms about being sacrilegious, it isn't me}</p>
            </blockquote>





	there will i be buried

hershel reads out loud from the bible all the time now, all solemn tone and stony face. he doesn’t even seem to choose the passages; instead, his hands seek, turning pages, and land on a word, a verse, a story that echoes their most recent fate. mostly, they are bleak, but now and then, there comes a story like this one, a story of loyalty beyond measure. it makes rick catch daryl’s eye and catch his breath, because the two of them are there in the words, the two of them are gospel.

softly and softer still, hershel murmurs with reverance: _entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, i will go, and where thou lodgest, i will lodge: thy people shall be my people and thy god, my god. where thou diest, will i die, and there will i be buried. the lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me._

good. _god._

and it’s these verses that make rick think of verse of his own, sacred text of his own, an ode to crystal blue eyes and crossbow bolts and loyalty beyond loyalty, faith beyond faith.

i.  
it is not really a happy love story  
after all, it begins across the carcass of a mutilated deer  
across a severed head  
with a stormy look and _don’t y’all know nothin’?_  
and the voice of disbelief: _so you and daryl, that's your big plan?_  
yes - rick and daryl - big plans  
because it’s him  
been him before rick even knew him  
been him since the beginning of the universe -  
sculpted from the dirt and made flesh  
rick saw him and he was _good_

ii.  
daryl knew right at the beginning  
but momentarily he thought rick fickle  
but rick always has and always will  
bend so far backward  
mostly for daryl -  
mostly at the less-than-melodious song that is his voice  
deep and graceless and tense  
and it’s like carving wood with a plastic knife  
just to get him to trust, to have faith  
but when he does, it’s easy  
easier than breathing

iii.  
and just because you fall in love with lightning  
doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of the strike  
rick can’t ground himself but who would want to?  
he can only hope to catch the hint of a spark

iv.  
daryl kisses like it’s the first/last/only (time)  
at first like seventh grade spin the bottle  
at last like fireworks lighting up a july sky  
and only like he loves rick  
far more than anything he’s ever hoped to love

v.  
there are birds beating their heavy wings in rick’s stomach  
lions roaring with a bottomless and unshakeable hunger  
just beneath his ribcage  
and a small, abiding voice in the back of his head  
that so often moves to the tip of his tongue  
praying, ceaselessly:  
_daryl, daryl, daryl_

vi.  
rick likes to squeeze into the narrow spaces  
the tiny places where the unspoken words should be  
the ones daryl won’t say because most days  
he can only be called taciturn  
rick is the heavy one, weighted at the ankles by all his sins  
walking into the river without knowing  
that just because the water makes you clean  
you don’t need to drown in it  
daryl will always pull him up  
before his vision goes dark too much at the edges  
because if rick is going to breathe his last  
it’s going to be on daryl’s lips

vii.  
when they fight together  
it is with the intent to protect  
everyone and one another  
a perfectly aimed crossbow  
the easy precision of a trained marksman  
the hunter and the deputy  
the archer and the officer  
a finely honed ballet of blood  
and afterward, relief  
_still here?_  
_still here._

viii.  
daryl finds the poetry book in the prison library  
reads it and takes it the way hershel takes the bible  
serious as a heart attack  
_look,_ he says  
_we must love one another or die_  
and rick replies, _love it is, ‘cause i ain’t dyin’ yet_

ix.  
they have made a home for themselves  
in each other  
but also in the world  
carving out time to be alone  
to swap a private, soft declaration of adoration  
to shed clothing and all inhibition  
to come together and know one another  
to know every inch of dirty, tired flesh  
to discover all the places where a touch  
is not just a touch  
but a moment of clarity

x.  
to walk through hell with someone  
is to know the truest measure of that person  
so when rick dies  
he hopes they don’t sing funeral dirges  
he hopes they just leave a space for daryl  
and mark his grave, their grave, with _was lost, now found_  
daryl is amazing grace, always -  
always  
and this is not really a happy love story  
but it is gospel  
his gospel  
and the one in that old book  
_whither thou goest_  
_i will go_  
_where thou diest_  
_will i die_  
_and there will i be buried_

**Author's Note:**

> The line of poetry, "We must love one another or die" comes from W.H. Auden's _September 1, 1939_ and the Bible verses, for reference, are Ruth 1:16-17.


End file.
